Sister
by Wolf of the Aurora
Summary: Gertrud Barkhorn has planned to see her little sister, Christiane. However, during the visit, the Neuroi attack and the witch is thrown into battle with the remaining members of the 501st. Gertrud fights with all the her strength, but after her world turns white, she finds herself in a world that is different, but similar at the same time. Slight AU. (Hiatus)
1. Chapter 1

"Sister"

It was early in the winter of 1945. Karlsland was enveloped in a white sheet as snow drifted down from the gray sky. Even though a war was still being fought, the streets of this city not far from the Gallian border showed signs of the upcoming holiday season. Gertrude Barkhorn was on her way to the hospital to see none other than her younger sister, Christiane Barkhorn, whom she affectionately calls "Chris". Trude's hair was untied and she wore a gray overcoat over her regular uniform.

Up three stories and she was at Chris's room. She quietly opened the door and saw her sister's head turned toward the window. Chris looked at the door as Trude entered.

"Hey," Trude said softly. "I hope I didn't wake you."

"It's in the middle of the day, sis. It's kind of hard to fall asleep."

Trude chuckled and pulled up a chair. She asked what Chris has been up to lately and Chris responded with the usual periodic checkups and physical rehabilitation as she still has some trouble walking.

"So. What have you been doing?" Chris asked.

"I'm still a Captain in the 501st. Sadly, it's slowly dissolving. Yoshika went to college to study, Lynnette has to help her sister take care of their mother, Perrine has been transferred and became Squadron Leader of the 506th, Lucchini was summoned to Romagna by the Duchess, the major and Minna are past retirement age for witches... Pretty much just leaves me, Hartmann, and the Liberion. It's tough, but we get the job done. More Neuroi to increase one's kill count I guess."

"Are you going to miss it too?" Chris asked. Quietly she added, "Since your approaching retirement age too?"

Chris was right. Trude was nearing twenty and she could feel her magic power weakening. She looked at her hand and tightened it into a fist.

"I should be fine," Trude said with a smile. "Depletion of magic varies from witch to witch. I got a good year or two left in me. Besides, once I retire, I get to spend more time with you."

She patted her sister's on the head, who seemed happy to hear the news.

"Oh, I almost forgot!" Trude reached into her coat pocket and presented a small box to Chris. "Sorry, I couldn't make it on your birthday so...happy late 13th birthday I guess."

Chris lifted the cover and pulled out a long chain and on the end of it was a metal oval. It was a silver locket. She opened it and on the left was a picture of Trude, happy and smiling, and on the right was a picture of their parents.

"This is like yours," Chris sniffed.

Trude pulled her locket that hung around her neck. It was square with the chain attached to one of the corners. Its design had another square midway to the center with two lines going diagonally from corner to corner and a pearl bead on the center where the lines crossed. Inside, Trude had the same picture of their parents, but instead of a picture of herself, she had a picture of Chris who was probably 5 or 6 when the photo was taken.

Chris began to tear up the longer she looked at her parents until she started to softly cry. Trude wrapped her arms around her to comfort her. She missed her parents, they both did, but Trude was able to somewhat cope easier by destroying any Neuroi she came across.

Without warning, bullets ripped through the glass. Chris screamed and Trude pulled them both onto the floor. The sound of an air raid siren was briefly cutoff when the familiar sound of a Neuroi death screech and roar of Strikers happened just outside the window.

"Look, I got to go. Stay here, stay down and do what the nurses tell you, okay?" Trude said quickly.

"Uh-huh," Chris whimpered, nodding her head.

Trude flipped the bed to give Chris something to hide behind when she heard a honk and a yell of a woman outside.

"Oi! Barkhorn! Get down here and gear up now!" It was none other than Charlotte Yeager.

"Alright!" Trude shouted back.

"Wait," Chris said. "Promise me you'll come back."

"I promise. I won't ever leave you again." With a final hug, Trude grabbed the bed sheet and wrapped it around the pipe of a rain gutter that was outside of the room window. She slid down and just as her feet touch downed, Shirley yanked off the tarp of the trailer attached to the truck, dramatically revealing two Striker launchers; one held Shirley's P-51Ds, and the other, Trude's Me-262 A1s. Without a moment to lose, both witches called upon their familiars and jumped into their strikers.

"Lucky," Shirley said with envy. "I wish I had a pair of jet Strikers."

"After this battle is over, I'll fill in a request to get you some," Trude said.

"Really?"

"Why not? They're in production, and we need all the help we can get."

Without another word, Trude loaded her duel MG 42s, grabbed a single Panzerfaust, and with her Strikers screaming, took off down the street and lifted into the air.

Before the magic engines could reach their full capacity, a Neuroi passed in front of Trude. With a quick burst, the Neuroi flew straight into the stream of bullets and disintegrated.

The battlefield over the city was filled with crisscrossing contrails and the roar of many, many, jet engines that it was almost deafening. Trude snapped onto a couple targets chasing a witch. With deadly proficiency, she took out three of them and the last two broke into a hard right. There was no way she could follow through with the turn so she stuck out her MG like a handgun and destroyed them. The witch saluted her thanks and Split-S'ed onto two targets that passed beneath them. Trude's shield automatically activated when a beam struck her side.

"I can use some help here."

Erica didn't respond, but Shirley gladly obliged with a requirement.

"Okay, come back towards me," Shirley said.

Trude confirmed and executed a steep chandelle and leveled out to head in Shirley's direction. The Liberion climbed as high as she could, twisted her body at the top of her climb,and came back down. Wind thundered past her as she gained speed dramatically. She was right on top of the Neuroi.

"Break!" Shirley shouted. Trude broke into a turn and as she did, Shirley squeezed the trigger on her BAR and shattered the alien. She zoomed climbed, turning her speed into altitude.

"Nicely done. I'm glad we're on the same side," Trude complimented through the intercom.

"We do make a pretty good team," Shirley acknowledged.

Recently, Trude has been warming up to the buxom red-headed Liberion. As small as the 501st was, they had no choice but to work together and Shirley had a change of attitude ever since the push into Karlsland. In Shirley's mind, it was act serious now and end the war as quickly as possible then spend time being lax.

As Trude reached the clouds, which were no more than a couple thousand meters high, a witch broke through the gray ceiling and dove at a blinding speed that even made Shirley impressed. At first glance, it seemed that the witch didn't have Strikers, but upon closer inspection, the Striker was on her back! It had a single small engine with short stubby wings and a small vertical stabilizer. That wasn't all that seemed weird about the newcomer. She was decked out in a dark brown flight suit that covered her entire body, including her legs, and wore a pair of black boots. She also had a black oxygen mask covering the lower half of her face.

The witch dove on a formation of Neuroi bombers. She fired her MK 108 30mm cannon as she punched through the formation, taking down one bomber. None of the Neuroi defenses activated because she was moving so fast. She zoom climbed, circled above the bombers once, and dove down again. She fired and severed the wing off one of the bombers causing it to collide into the bomber next to it, creating a spectacular explosion. Halfway to the clouds, the engine flamed out and quit. She yanked on a cord and the pair of stubby wings folded out to create long wings of a glider. Another witch flying an He-162 flew up next to the gliding witch to assist her back to base.

The witch removed her oxygen mask. Sweat dripped down her face and she was completely exhausted.

"Eight minutes of effective combat time," She said, breathing heavily. "What complete bullshit."

"That's the price to pay when you fly the Komet," commented the 162 pilot. "Look on the bright side. You managed three kills in two runs."

The Komet witch just hung her head in exhaustion.

* * *

The sky became darker as the clouds thickened. A bolt of lightning speared through the center of the 506th's formation, who just arrived, causing them to scatter.

"Watch it everyone!" Heinrike Wittgenstein shouted. "Try not to get hit by lightning!"

Just as she said that, Perrine was struck by a bolt but it didn't do anything detrimental. In fact it helped her. Electricity aggressively crackled all around the Gallian's body as she charged up a ball of lightning in her hand.

"Tonnerre!" Perrine released lightning from her hand. The attack was so powerful that it sliced through two large-types and wiped out any smaller drones around them.

Shortly after her attack, a horizontal tornado howled right in front of her destroying some small-types and disorienting others.

 _I know that attack!_ Perrine looked to her right and saw the Black Devil herself; Erica Hartmann. The Karlslandian screamed in gunning down the disoriented Neuroi with her MG 151/20. Perrine was astounded at Erica's speed as she zoomed above the rooftops. _Man! And I thought my Tempest II was fast!_

Erica in fact was not using her usual Bf-109 G6. Her new Strikers had the appearance of an elongated FW-190, even longer than the Dora, and has a pair of vertical stabilizers and elevators near the contra rotating propellers. It was a Dornier Do-335.

Trude was having difficulty dodging lightning as well as enemy fire and it didn't help that she was in the cloud. Luckily some of the Neuroi were struck by lightning, lessening the witch's problems.

"Let's hit the deck before we-" Shirley was cut off by the crack of thunder.

"Shirley?" Trude called out. Suddenly, something heavy crashed down on top of her. It was Shirley's unconscious body.

"Shirley!" Trude reached out to grab her wingman's hand but she too was shocked. The Karlslandian strained as she tried to keep her eyes open and on Shirley. It was not to be though. Another jagged bolt of light struck her. A deafening ring sounded off inside her ears and her eyes saw nothing but a bright white light. She felt numb as though she was floating through empty space until she began to regain some of her senses. Wind whistled, her clothes flapped in the wind, and air rushed past her. Trude opened her eyes. She was in a free fall! Frantically, she restarted her engines and went into a hover before the ground got any closer.

Not far off, a flight of four swept wing jets circled the area above the lone witch.

"What do you make of that?" the Element Lead asked.

"A flying girl appearing in the middle of nowhere after a lightning storm? Is the government keeping secrets again?" the Flight Wingman commented.

"It does seem to be a witch and this close to the East, *scoff* must be the Soviets," said the Element Wingman.

"Or it could be Liberion. God knows what they're up to," said the Element Lead. "Flight Lead, your orders?"

The Flight Lead, a young woman, remained quiet and placed a hand on her chest over a small bump in her flight suit.

"We follow her, but keep your distance."

* * *

Trude, bewildered, silently hovered as she looked at her surroundings. A city was beneath her but it wasn't the one she was in a few seconds ago. The city was in ruins. Destroyed tanks, destroyed sandbag bunkers and machinegun nests, as well as parts of planes littered the city, some of which were still burning. It was deadly silent. Nothing moved; no people or birds, not even a mouse. It was truly a gray winter apocalyptic display. The lone witch slowly flew around until she caught sight of what seemed to be a makeshift airfield at the edge of the metropolis.

A four lane highway that led out of the city acted as the runway while any surrounding buildings acted as Air Traffic Control, a command center, armory...anything an active airbase would need.

Trude dismounted and slowly walked towards what might be the command building, slinging one of her MG 42s onto her back and kept the other at the ready. Along the way there was some machinery that seemed familiar to her, mainly the Me-262s in their many different variants. They were far from flawless. Gaping holes the size of a football leaving cavities in the planes' structures along with small craters in the ground indicated that they were strafed while parked on the ground. There was one jet that was partially intact that Trude didn't recognize. It had the familiar swept wing design, but the elevator was high up on the tail and it didn't seem to have a nose; just a single large intake.

Hoping to find a little bit of warmth, Trude stopped sightseeing and entered the building only to find it to be just as cold as outside. The fact that the glass was shattered and snow blew through the windows didn't help. She found the war room, and just like the rest of the place, it was trashed. There was nothing that could be of much use. A couple maps and map markers was pretty much it. Trude was about to leave when she spotted a newspaper. Her blood froze when she saw the date.

 _1952?! How can the year be 1952?!_ Trude wailed in her thoughts. She read the headline and in big bold letters, it read: EASTERN KARLSLAND HAS FALLEN TO THE SOVIETS! Unable to look away, she continued reading and found out that Orussia now had a dictator and with Berlin in the hands of the Soviets, Karlsland was politically in shambles and Liberion hasn't decided what to do if they're to do anything.

The normally strong willed witch broke into tears and continued to cry for her beloved country.

"I-I-Is that you?" a weak voice asked.

Trude dropped the paper and whipped around to aim her weapon. A figure stood in the shadow of the doorway, hiding its identity but clearly held a handgun. Trude poised her finger over the trigger, her grief fueling her anger.

"Who the hell are you?!" she demanded.

The figure stepped forward slowly, evidently showing strain with each step until it stopped in the light. It was a woman. She was thin and gaunt, her clothes hanging onto her skeleton. Her brown hair was matted and her blue eyes were glazed but once she saw Trude's face, she smiled weakly, undoubtedly with happiness.

"It really is you."

"Johanna Wiese?!" Trude said in shock. The bony witch smiled and fell onto the floor with a thud.

"Johanna!" Trude ran up and cradled Johanna's fragile body in her arms.

"It's so good to see you." Johanna put her hand up to Trude's cheek and lightly chuckled. "After all these years, you haven't aged a day."

She couldn't go on talking as she shrunk and shivered. Trude quickly took her coat off and put it over Johanna. She seemed grateful and snuggled closer to Trude.

"Johanna, do you know what happened here?"

Johanna was about to speak when she heard something outside. Hoarsely and urgently, she spoke to Trude.

"Go! Get out of here now!" she strained.

"What-? Why?"

"Doesn't matter! Just leave me and get as far away from here as you can!"

"I can't just leave you here!" Trude protested. Johanna yanked on her collar.

"Go! One of us has to make it out alive!"

By the time Trude processed what she was told, it was already too late. A group of men armed with odd looking rifles burst through the door. One of them snatched Trude which caused Johanna to fall to the floor. Johanna feigned unconsciousness even though she wasn't far from passing out. A Sergeant walked through the door. Much to Trude's surprise, he had the Karlsland military insignia along with a gold hammer and sickle pin on his collar. If she remembered what Sanya said correctly, that was the symbol of the Communist party in Orussia. He looked down at Johanna, then to Trude who was still struggling in a Corporal's tight grip. Much to the witch's surprise, he spoke in fluent Karlslandic.

"Quite a catch if I do say so myself," said the Sergeant.

"I'll say. This one's armed to the teeth, sir," said the Corporal, indicating Trude.

He walked up to Trude and inspected her...physically.

"Young and nice. That is sure to fetch a nice price."

Trude blushed as he fondled with her breasts.

"But of course, she would be nicer if she is still innocent down here." He touched her privates. Trude sparked and kicked him. She tried to throw a punch only to have the grip on her arm squeeze tighter.

"Dirty bastard!" she yelled.

"Oh-ho-ho-ho! Feisty! I love that in a woman." He was about to do something to her face when he stopped and looked down.

Johanna was slowly crawling to the handgun that she had dropped. However, before she could reach it, the Sergeant's boot slowly crushed her hand into the floor. Johanna screamed in pain and shrunk into the fetal position to nurse her hand. He grabbed Johanna by the hair and lifted her up to eye level. The witch tried to free herself with her one good hand.

"That's not the type of feisty I like," he commented.

"Fuck you, you goddamn motherfucker!" Johanna said through gritted teeth. "Gah!" She recoiled when she received a fist to the stomach.

"I'll give you two options," she continued. "You can either kill yourself the way you want or let me decide how I want to kill you, which would probably be in a gruesome way."

Trude raised an eyebrow. She heard that quote somewhere before but she couldn't remember where. It did leave a sour taste in her mouth though. She shook her head to clear it. If she didn't remember, it probably wasn't important.

"You're in no position to tell me what to do." The Sergeant slammed Johanna's head against the edge of a table. "Not so tough without those fancy powers of yours, huh?"

Johanna didn't answer as the floor around her head slowly became red.

"Put both of them in the truck," he ordered. Two men dragged Johanna's body and the Corporal carried Trude out. No matter how much she resisted, she couldn't break free.

Not long after they exited the building, shouting came from one of the vehicles as two 37mm Flak 43s started opening up. Everyone dropped their attention on the two women and focused on the incoming threat. Four jets similar to the one Trude saw earlier circled the airspace when two of them broke off. The Flight Lead and its wingman strafed the convoy, cutting down anyone unfortunate enough to be in the way. They flashed past and Trude saw Karlsland Luftwaffe roundels on the fuselage. The Element Lead and its wingman made their run and raked bullets over the vehicles destroying most of the trucks and one of the Flak 43s. As the Element Wingman passed, it took a hit. Black smoke flowed out of the jet but it still flew. Having to make a decision quickly, Trude decided to help out the aircraft the only way she could. She unslung her single Panzerfaust and primed it. She took aim at the single Flak truck and destroyed it with the single shot. The jets came back around to strafe any infantry and Trude took the opportunity to get to her Strikers. After starting up her Strikers, she quickly picked Johanna up in her arms and left the carnage behind her.

* * *

The Me 262s whined as they started to die. Trude used every scrap of energy she had to stay airborne. She was running completely on fumes and was completely defenseless. No food for a quick boost. No magic reserves. No way of using her last MG 42. No nothing. She was about to land somewhere in the snowy wilderness when she heard the sound of jet engines. One of the jets from earlier pulled up to her left, another to her right, one above and behind her, and one below her. She looked to the left and saw that the pilot was pointing at the plane next to her so Trude looked to her right. The jet pilot gave her a long look, her oxygen mask and helmet hiding any emotions. The pilot pointed at Trude, then back at herself, then out in front of her. She did so several more times until Trude figured it out.

"You follow me," Trude said to herself, interpreting the hand signals. She nodded. The pilot banked right and Trude followed along with the rest of the flight.

Trude landed in front of the hangar on an airfield. Many eyed her curiously as statements were made.

"Who is she?"

"A witch? An actual witch?"

"Wait...Is that Johanna?"

"Someone get a medic! It's Johanna!"

Before the Trude could comprehend anything, she was surrounded by base personnel, soldiers, and pilots, men and women alike. They were all young faces and she couldn't recognize but she was glad that they at least know and cared for Johanna's well being. A stretcher finally came and she gently put her friend down and watched her get wheeled away. As Johanna went, so did most of the crowd.

The flight of four that had escorted Trude have landed and were taxiing towards the hangar. The Flight Lead along with the rest of her flight halted on the apron. She hopped out and was greeted by her mechanic.

"How did things go up there?" he asked. The pilot didn't respond and he asked again, voice filled with concern. "Hey. Is everything alright?"

"For the most part. Halder's CL-13 was hit and would need some repairs," she said distantly, staring at Trude.

"So that's a witch?" he asked. "I wonder if she also knew your sister."

"Sister..." the pilot whispered longingly.

Trude took off her 262 and was about to follow the crowd when the short haired brunette pilot walked up to her and slapped her across the face. Trude was taken aback by this gesture and was slapped on the other cheek.

"Where were you?!" the pilot demanded.

The witch was absolutely dumbfounded.

"All these years and you show up now!" The pilot broke into tears and pounded Trude's chest with her fists, each one getting progressively weaker.

"I'm sorry. But I don't know what you're talking about," Trude said, genuinely confused.

"You baka!" the pilot choked. "Baka! You left me there. You left me in that hospital and you didn't come back! You said you would! You promised me!"

Trude looked down at the pilot and saw a scuffed up silver locket that had escaped the pilot's flight suit. The latch was broken and with the repeated movement of the pilot's hits, it opened to reveal two very familiar photographs behind cracked glass.

"Chris?!" Trude said in astonishment.

Chris looked up, tears flowing from her eyes.

"You were going to retire," Chris said. "You were going to spend time with me. You promised you wouldn't ever leave me again." It became too much for her. Chris sobbed so heavily that she could no longer form words.

"It's okay. It's okay. I'm here now. I'm here now." Trude pulled Chris in closer in a tight embrace. Chris cried and wailed with grief, anger, and happiness as she wept into Trude's chest.

"I won't leave you...Sister."

* * *

 **A/N: This story has been sitting in my hard drive for a while. I was not really sure what to do with it. My goal at the time when I wrote this was to have a story with Chris and to have a non-siscon relationship between the Barkhorn sisters.**

 **Given the premise of this story so far, I thought it was fitting to release it today, October 21, 2015. Why? Because today is the day Marty McFly and Doc Brown arrive to the future! I feel so nostalgic thinking about it. It is a weird feeling that _Back to the Future_ is now in the past.**

 **I have not really planned anything for this story after this point, but if there is enough interest, I will be happy to continue it.**

 **Take care folks, and remember, the future hasn't been written yet. No one's has. Your future is whatever you make it. So make it a good one.**


	2. Chapter 2

-2-

Chris silently cried all the way to the commander's office. Over the years, she held back her emotions, but they all came rushing back when Trude arrived.

The office the sisters entered was elaborate, like what most of the witch squadrons would have. There were bookshelves along both walls, two couches and coffee table in the center, and an ornate wooden desk and red velvet chair sat in front of two large windows at the back of the office.

Trude sat her sister down on one of the couches. Looking around she found a box of tissues on the desk. She took it and handed it to Chris.

The 'younger' Barkhorn blew her nose and wiped her eyes and quickly filled up a waste basket.

Trude waited patiently for her sister to regain her composure when it dawned on her; no one had walked into the office.

"Chris, do you know where the commander is?" Trude asked gently.

Chris was in the middle of blowing her nose and she froze when she heard the question. After taking another tissue and wiped the tears from her eyes she answered.

"You're looking at her."

Trude's eyes widened.

"That's wonderful!" she exclaimed.

"No it's not," Chris said.

"What do you mean 'it's not'? You deserve it."

"I don't."

Chris curled her fingers into fists as her sister continued to compliment her.

"I know you must have worked very hard to achieve this rank," Trude continued. "After all, you're the sister of a very diligent-"

"NO! I don't deserve it!" Chris screamed and stood up. "I don't deserve it! I didn't earn it! I don't _want_ it!"

Trude was taken aback by her sister's outburst and held up her arm to defend herself as Chris continued.

"I didn't earn any of this!" Chris said as she slammed her fists down on her desk. "I didn't pull strings, I didn't fake my way…. The only reason I am here is because…it's because…because there are no veterans left! There are no witches left! There is no one else left to take this spot!"

Chris's legs buckled beneath her. She tried to prevent herself, but her bottom hit the floor anyway. Her tears broke the dam once again, making Chris sob harder and longer than when she was reunited. Trude knelt down next to her sister and tried to comfort her, but she just got pushed away.

 _What the hell happened to her? What could she have possibly gone through to become like this?_

"There's no one left," Chris said, her voice barely a whisper. "Not Minna, not Erica, not Hanna, Yoshika, Lynne…"

Her voice trailed off.

"I don't want this."

Each Barkhorn stayed in the spot they have landed in. Chris continued to weep. Trude's mind whirled with questions. So many questions that she had gotten dizzy.

By the time Trude decided to move, the sun was already making its way below the horizon. The witch crawled to her sister, each joint and muscle creaking with stiffness. As many questions Trude wanted to ask, she picked the one that would most likely answer most of her inquiries.

"Chris…"

Her sister looked up.

"What happened in the past seven years?"

Chris blinked with brief confusion.

"Seven?"

"Yes, from the day I disappeared till now."

"That's not seven years," Chris said.

"It's 1952, isn't it?"

"It was six years ago."

Trude's mouth hung open.

"It's 1958. A lot of shit…too much shit has happened," Chris said.

"But what happened?" Trude asked as Chris got up.

Chris walked back to the couch and sat down.

"Take a seat. This'll take a while."

* * *

 **1945**

November 30th:

You know what happened. You came to visit me and you gave me this locket. The Neuroi attacked and you left to fight. But you didn't come back.

A day passed, then a week…a month…

You didn't come back.

 **1946**

May 8th:

The war had ended in Europe. Nothing much to say, really.

August 15th:

The 508th Joint Fighter Wing, along with the Fusoan and Liberion navies eradicated the Neuroi in the Pacific.

The world was finally free.

There was conference later in the year for a disarmament treaty, held in Helvetia. Nothing notable came out of it except for the issue about witches.

They must have feared you guys.

They wanted to scrap all Strikers, get the witches out of the military, and maybe even forcefully have them break their contracts with their familiars.

Luckily, Adolfine Galland was there.

As you know, the war had come at a huge cost. There were not many with combat experience left, and most of those who were left were witches. Adolfine reasoned that the Strikers could be destroyed, but leave the witches be.

If they wanted to stay in the military, let them. If they wanted to go to school and conform back into society, help them.

As confident as the woman is, she had her own doubts of being able to adapt to civilian life. She went on and explained that war had consumed her life and that's all she knows. She didn't get to choose if she wanted to fight or not. She was forced into the role. She wanted the girls to choose and even went as far as calling the leaders of the world, in her own words:

"A bunch of useless monkeys who hide behind a desk and give orders, without knowing or _caring_ what the people who do the dirty work want or think."

"You are one to talk, _Air Marshal_ ," she heard someone say scornfully.

Adolfine had stood up and slammed a fist down onto the table, responding:

"I've been fighting on the frontlines since I was fifteen! I know what happens out there on the battlefield, you dick-less coward!"

Apparently her outburst got a frightening response from her escort, who was also a Karlslandian witch. Adolfine's escort took her sidearm out of its holster and went as far as cocking the gun. Helvetian guards ordered the witch to drop the weapon at gunpoint, but the witch didn't budge until Adolfine ordered her to holster the gun.

 **1947**

Karlsland, along with the rest of Europe were rebuilding. Kaiser Frederick IV and the rest of the royal family were on the way back to Karlsland. We started to rebuild our country, but our economy was in shambles.

Meanwhile, in Orussia, they were going through a similar crisis. The Communist party were tired of large economic differences and led a military coup and overthrown the Tsar. Their leader now is Joseph Stalin. He calls himself a president, but we all know he's a dictator.

 **1949**

We now had the same problem. The National Socialist Workers' party had rallied enough support to start a rebellion of their own. The damn Nazis had supporters everywhere; soldiers, civilians…witches.

Insiders helped them break into our armories and stole too many weapons to count, tanks included.

Naturally, we fought back, but not without great cost. All the witches that participated were fine since they had their magic, but regular humans lined the streets, their blood painting everything red.

The rebels had also successfully assassinated the Kaiser. His son, Prinz Frederick V, the coward he is, fled back to Neue Karlsland and did nothing to help us.

 **1950-1951**

Whoever had stayed in the Fatherland decided to create a new government. But there was a lot of debate about it. Some wanted to copy the Liberions and create a Republic, others wanted a Socialist type, and the rest wanted Communism.

Since we, as Karlslandians, are reasonable, we decided to try each type of government and then vote on which system to use.

We decided to try Socialism first, then Communism, and then Republicanism.

 **1952**

If you thought the world was bad enough, this is what packaged it up into a nice little present for Satan.

I don't even know where to start…

Liberion, perhaps? Let's go with that.

That country was in full blown hysteria. Thanks to some politician named McCarthy, the Liberions were hunting every square inch of their country for Communists. Apparently McCarthy would have a new list of names every day of people who are Communists.

Chaos took the streets as _regular civilians_ shot, lynched, beaten to death anyone who were on those lists. Of course it didn't take long for anyone to find out that those names belonged to witches, mostly.

One frightening report, a witch, Leah Archer, was hanged right on her front lawn in front of her husband and kids.

Others made a mad dash for Faraway Land or Mexico. Those who went to Mexico weren't bothered for some reason, but the Liberions went as far was trying to assassinate the witches who went to Faraway Land.

This brought the death of two Faraway Landian witches; Elizabeth Beurling and Jeannette Walker. In response, Faraway Land militarized their border and even went as far as placing land mines and destroying all transportation lines along the border.

As far as I know, the Liberion witches that escaped are safe.

But that country's insanity didn't stop there. They even wiped out one of their own carrier fleets that had a squadron of witches on it.

Not only that, they sent a saboteur to Fuso to destroy one of the Fusoan's power plants in Hiroshima.

What's so important about a power plant? This was a _nuclear_ power plant. When that thing exploded, it took out the entire city!

Fuso has set up a blockade around their home island and restricted the entrance of immigrants and tourists greatly. There's no way anyone's getting passed that.

This is unconfirmed, but they might be sending a group of submarines to Panama to attack the Liberion base there.

Oh, and they did catch the Liberion who did it. They executed him with a beheading.

Who did it? Colonel Sakamoto.

Romagna was also going through some trouble. There was an assassination attempt on the Duchess. Francesca was at the palace during the attempt. She reported that a sniper tried to take her out, but she managed to evacuate the Duchess. The attempt sparked a rebellion in Romagna. Currently, the military and those loyal to the Duchess are still fighting the rebels.

Meanwhile, Karlsland was in the middle of testing out a Communist government. That's when Orussia attacked us. We didn't have the military strength and we were pushed back up to the Gallian border.

Fearing of losing their homeland again, Gallia helped us with air support and weapons. We received weapons from Britannia and Belgica as well.

With the help, we pushed them back all, almost out of Karlsland.

It was around this time that Stalin had died, but Nikita Khrushchev took his place.

We were pushed back again, but this time we held our own. The frontline now split our country down the middle with Karlslandians on both sides, most politicians on the east side. Our side, the west, became something that looked like a mix of Democracy and Socialism.

Minna was in charge of the sector that I'm in charge of now. She sent…scratch that…Johanna volunteered to sneak to the east to spy on them, as she was one of the few witches who secretly kept their magic.

What was that?

Oh, yeah. The final version of the Helvetian Treaty required witches to break contracts with their familiars. Those who didn't were subjected to extreme "testing" until they do. How they would now if you guys had magic or not is beyond me.

Yeah, so Johanna volunteered to go east under a fake identity. Must've taken some of the recklessness from her apprentice.

Johanna communicated through her familiar so she couldn't be as easily traced if she used a phone or letters.

What she reported was that the Eastern Karlslandians seemed content with their situation and that the Orussians were going to leave. It seemed like good news and we let our guard down.

Big mistake.

Johanna found out that the only reason Orussia was leaving was because there were enough Communist radicals in charge and they were planning to take the whole country by force. She got the message back to us and we told her to get back here as soon as possible.

She never got it though. Minna sent Krawatte to check on Johanna and found out that while Johanna's familiar was on its way back to her, it was killed. Krawatte was killed also after he sent the message to Minna.

And that's the last we heard from Johanna until you brought her back.

 **1953-Present**

Nothing to say here.

The East attacked and we struck back. Border skirmish after border skirmish and the results were the same.

We are stuck in a civil war. The West gets weapons from Britannia, Belgica, and Gallia, while the East is backed by Orussia.

* * *

"So, does that answer most of your questions?"

Stiffly, Trude nodded.

"Anything else?"

"Yeah…You mentioned a couple names of witches. W-What happened them?"

"Shot down. Dead," Chris answered.

"But why Miyafugi? Shouldn't she be in Fuso?"

"We started hiring mercenaries. Yoshika was one of them. She came here to heal, not to fight."

"That sounds like her," Trude said.

"Nice girl. She taught me some Fusoan. On her way back to Fuso, her plane was shot down."

Silence settled between them.

"Anything else?"

"No…I don't think so," Trude whispered.

"Then I'll show you to my room."

"Where are you sleeping?"

"On the couch."

* * *

Chris showed Trude to her room. Like her office, it was a spacious room for a military base. The floor was carpeted and red velvet curtains hung on the large windows. The bed was not anything too special, but it was evident that Chris did not make her bed every day. Chris also had her own personal bathroom which she pointed out to Trude so she could clean herself up.

After Trude finished bathing, she stepped out into the main room with a night gown that Chris lent. It was made of a thin, light-blue cloth that almost made it transparent. Trude's face was flushed red at the thought of her sister seeing her in it, but when she looked around, there was no one there. Chris had already gone.

The witch got ready for bed when she spotted a group of photographs on the well-worn mahogany dresser. Trude made a quick glance up and down the row and it seemed that the pictures were in chronological order.

There was a picture of their parents on their wedding day. The frame was beaten and the glass was cracked. Trude remembered dumping the picture into a cardboard box soon after she had received the news of their parents' death, which was around the same time Chris fell into a coma. She had shoved the box into the basement of the base she was stationed at. Chris must have dug it out of storage sometime after the war.

The next one was the small family portrait that was at Chris's side ever since she entered the hospital.

Much to Trude's dismay and surprise, _Der Stern von Afrika_ , Hanna-Justina Marseille was the next picture. And the picture was _signed_.

 _I thought I lost that bet._

There was a leap in years as the next picture showed Chris going through basic training in the military. Chris's face showed signs of maturity that has been embedded in her very soul for quite some time. This was a trend that was evident in the following pictures.

Then the pictures were interrupted by a certificate. A pin of silver wings sat in front of it.

 _I was right. She did work hard to reach the rank she deserves._

The next picture caught her off guard again and for the same reason as the first.

Chris was in a different type of Karlslandian military uniform than Trude was used to seeing and she was covered in snow. The other person in the picture was, again, Marseille, also covered in snow. The two had their arms around each other and gave big smiles for the photographer.

The next picture had Chris kneeling on the wing of a jet. On the fuselage below the canopy were five kill marks. Chris smiled as she posed for the picture.

 _Finally an ace. You've become a wonderful pilot._

Upon closer inspection, Trude could see the silhouette of a dog's head pointing forward on the nose of the aircraft.

"Die Vorstenhund" seemed to be the nickname of the squadron Chris was in.

The next item was not a picture at all. It was a pair of goggles that sat on top of a handwritten letter.

…

 _Dear Chris,_

 _I hope this letter gets to you. I don't even know if I'll be the one to send it._

 _I heard the news. Congratulations on becoming a wing commander. You definitely have the experience to be one. Dreadful way to attain this rank though. I know you must be grieving and my departure will make it worse, but I know you can pull through this. As my student I expect you to pull through this. My habit of not caring should have rubbed off on you, and maybe for the better given the shit the world's in. Not to mention that you've been trained by Ev too. I don't know if that's good or not._

 _Anyway, you can have my goggles if you want. I don't know what you'll use them for, but I don't need them for where I'm going. Stay strong and live long for all of us; me, you, your sister, and every man, woman, and potential witch who will fight and die for our Fatherland._

 _You have been my best and only student._

 _Goodbye until we meet again on the other side._

 _Much love,_

 _Hanna_

…

The letter was written messily. Unusual, especially with Marseille's handwriting. But the reason could be quite clearly seen with the smudges of red all over the paper.

Trude turned off the lights and used the dim light of the moon to retire to the bed. She stared at the ceiling as she thought about the relationship Chris and Marseille had. Given that Trude did not like Marseille, she was the one that taught her sister what she knows about flying.

What concerned Trude was Marseille's personality and how it could have infected Chris. So far Chris seemed to be herself, as much as a Chris hardened by war could be. But taking the tone of the letter, who had a greater influence on the other?

Trude's mind continued to work until the weight of much needed sleep closed her eyes.

* * *

 **A/N: Bit of a grim past Chris had to go through in Trude's absence. There was supposed to be more to this chapter, but I separated it into two chapters given the combined length it would have been.**

 **Since SW is a fictional world, I've taken liberties on the history and governments of the countries. I stated in the summary that this was a slight AU anyway.**

 **I am usually very lax when it comes to the content of reviews and comments, but please, do not talk about politics or anything that could provoke hostility.**

 **Onto other things. The signed picture of Hanna was from Season 2, Episode 10. Hanna had asked Minna (I think) to give the picture to Chris. Also, "Vorstenhund" is another name for the Karlslandian (German) Shorthaired Pointer which is the breed of Trude's familiar.**

 **Please leave a comment or review. I am curious on what you think of the continuation of what was originally supposed to be a one-shot. Anyway, take care and I hope to catch you guys and gals in the next chapter.**


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: Please read the post-chapter A/N before reviewing or commenting any questions or concerns. There's a chance it's answered there.  
**

* * *

-3-

The next morning, the witch went through her morning routine and was about to head out the door when she noticed a folded piece of paper in front of the door. She unfolded it and read its contents.

 _Go to Hangar 5 by the D-11 by 0700. I assigned someone to brief you on the majority of the weapons and vehicles used now. I'd do it, but I'm busy. By the way, welcome to Ramstein._

 _-Chris_

So Trude went to the hangar as instructed. On her way there, she received something from the base personnel. Everyone she passed laid their eyes on her. They were not being too inconspicuous about it either. Several times, people would stop what they were doing or freeze to give her a stare. On two separate occasions people who were walking across her path would give her a wide berth and there was a group of sitting personnel who straight up stood up and left as Trude approached.

Feeling uneasy, Trude increased her pace until she got into the hangar. The sun cast her shadow across the hangar floor and everything turned black when she closed the personnel door.

She shivered as the metal structure and smooth cement acted like a freezer, especially with the snow outside. Blinking her eyes, she slowly got accustomed to the dim light.

There were several aircraft in the hangar, all of them she could recognize. The closest one to her was the Fw-190 D-11 painted in a green and light blue. The next one was a Ta-152 in a brown and green followed by a…Hawker Tempest II? Why would Karlsland have a Tempest? Anyway, the next one was another Fw-190 D variant followed by a-.

The door behind the D-11 swung open. Rapid footsteps closed in on Trude. She followed the black boots as they walked around the wing until the full figure came into view.

It was a woman. She wore a battle dress uniform, similar to what Chris wore in the pictures. Her uniform consisted of a cap, a long-sleeved tunic, and pants. Its design was a dappled pattern of green, black, brown, and tan. She had a pin with silver wings on her right breast and a tag that said "Luftwaffe" was on the left. There was also a patch of the Karlslandian flag on her right arm. On a black battle belt around her waist was a Smith & Wesson M27 revolver in a holster.

She was about the same height as Trude and had dark blonde hair that was tied into a bun. Her young and beautiful turquoise eyes glimmered in the dim light.

The nametag under her pin said "Meyer".

"Captain Gertrud Barkhorn?" she asked.

"Yes."

"Fantastic. I'm Lieutenant Emilie Meyer," she said as she held out her hand.

Trude took it and gave a hesitant shake.

"I was assigned by Commander Barkhorn to give you a rundown on modern weaponry, but I trust you already know that."

"Yes, I did," Trude answered.

"Any questions before we head to the armory?"

"Yes…" Trude usually would not allow embarrassment to overcome her pride as a soldier, but the stares she got and the leap in time she had gone through made herself want to be reassured like a scared child.

"Is there a reason why everyone on this base acts so…deliberate around me?"

Emilie looked up and down Trude's body.

"You're not wearing pants, first of all. So let's get you changed into some Flecktarn. Come."

Emilie did an about face and made for the door in the back right of the hangar, which was diagonal to them. The door would lead to an unused locker room which stored clothes and flight gear.

As they walked along the back wall, Trude was able to see a couple more planes. There was a Bf-109 K painted in various shades of blue with external mounted gunpods attached under its wings. The next one was a Ju-87 G-2. It was dark green and there were two yellow lines on either side of the Luftwaffe insignia on both wings, similar to how Hanna Rudel's Strikers were painted.

The last plane was a sandy colored Bf-109 G-2 sitting on its belly. It was riddled with holes and was in pieces. The right wing was detached from the fuselage and just sat next to the plane. The left wing was mostly still attached but the outer wing was missing. The propeller was bent and the elevator drooped. But something stood out to Trude. The fuselage had a familiar number painted in yellow;

14…

"BDUs, BDUs, BDUs, Flecktarn…" Emilie's voice faded away as Trude picked her way past the pieces of debris.

The rudder lay on the cement and still showed the kill marks of the first hundred kills. She closed in on the cockpit and passed one of the landing gears, a flap, an aileron, and many more bits and pieces. One thing was evident; the cockpit canopy was nowhere to be seen.

Inside the cockpit, the flight instruments were all but destroyed. Bullet holes raked the instrument panel. There was a giant hole in the panel that matched the one in the pilot's seat. What was left of the cockpit was covered in dark, dried blood.

Trude was about to step away from the wrecked plane, but she felt the tug of a familiar and powerful aura. It emitted from the cockpit so she leaned in. The aura had gotten stronger and Trude slowly waved her hand inside the cockpit. A feeling of comfort and security washed over Trude, like a defenseless puppy getting snuggled towards its mother's belly. Upon closer inspection, the joystick was crushed as if someone made a fist around a paper towel roll. The throttle on the other side of the cockpit was disfigured in a similar manner.

Trude's hand passed by the joystick. She froze when something caught her eye. Moving back to the joystick, she saw a dim glimmer. Her hand moved closer and a low light-blue phosphorescent glow came from the crushed handle.

"Excuse me."

Trude whipped around, blushing as if she had been caught peeping. Emilie was standing outside of the debris field with a folded set of clothes in her hands.

"Here's your new set of clothes. I don't know what size you are, but you look to be about my size so…"

Emilie held out the uniform in front of her. Trude cautiously walked through the debris field and took the clothes from Emilie.

"You can use the locker room to change. When you're done, go out the door I came in through. I'll be waiting in a jeep."

…

Trude got into her new uniform. It was a plain version of what Emilie was wearing. The only identification markings were the "Luftwaffe" tag on her left breast and the Karlslandian flag patch on her right arm. Besides the new design, it was not too alien to her. She put on her cap and closed the locker door which contained her old uniform.

Walking out of the room, she felt very peculiar. As a witch, especially a frontline witch, she never wore pants. Before her career as a soldier, she did wear skirts and dirndl dresses as a kid, but never pants. The feeling of the fabric rubbing against her legs with every stride felt weird and the weight of her boots made her feel like she was anchored to the floor.

Despite her uneasiness, she managed to make it to Emilie okay.

* * *

The witch was surprised that the jeep was, well, a jeep instead of a Kubelwagen. It was roofless and instead of the star of the Liberion military, the black and white cross of the Karlslandian Armed Forces took its place on the hood. An MG 34 took the spot as the mounted machine gun.

Emilie turned the key and stepped on the gas. She drove along the road that ran behind the hangars, but instead of heading to the base's armory, she drove through the exit.

"Excuse me," Trude began. "Isn't there an armory on base?"

"Yes, but it doesn't hold too many different types of weapons. In order to give you a more thorough briefing, we have to head off base," Emilie explained. "And I thought we could look at the tanks on the way back."

"Okay…"

For a while they drove in silence. Scenery of woodland and farmland slid past them, some in the blink of an eye and others lingering on the horizon. The sky became overcast and a light snowfall drifted down on the countryside.

Finally, Emilie let out a big sigh and hunched over the wheel.

"What's the matter?" Trude asked delicately

"I'm just wondering how different the world could be. I can only take so much of war."

"How much combat have you seen? Trude asked. "You look awfully young."

"I'm twenty. Born in 1938 and enlisted at seventeen."

"Since the Second War, huh?"

"But that's all I remember. Terrible time to be born."

"There are witches who have seen nothing but war. And they were at the forefront of it."

"I'm aware of what you guys have done for us," Emilie said. "But it is also because of you that led to this fucked up reality."

The driver clenched her teeth and tightened her grip on the steering wheel.

Trude stared at the driver, mouth agape.

"Witches started this?!" she said disbelievingly.

"Chris didn't tell you?" Emilie asked.

"Tell me what?"

"That's a 'no' then. Yeah, this happened because of witches, more specifically _you_."

Trude was petrified.

"You see, you were the second highest scoring ace in the world. In fact you still are. But it's because of your status that drove everyone bonkers when you disappeared. Sure, we won the war, but the whole world was caught up in finding one of the greatest witches ever known that they ignored the rebellions that were popping up. While Europe was fighting its own civil wars, the Red Scare in Liberion was turning into the second Salem Witch Trials. This only made our situation worse as witches and former witches were killed and those that are left, and who aren't insane, ran into hiding. I still wonder how I feel about a witch-less world. It's not like it did my family any good."

"This happened because of me?" Trude asked breathlessly after she regained her thoughts.

"Yeah," Emilie said. "If you weren't so famed and was left for dead, none of this would have happened!

Emilie hit the steering wheel in frustration.

"Fucking butterfly effect."

* * *

By the time they reached the armory, which was located just outside a small town, Emilie had regained her composure. There were soldiers present here and in the town, most of them carried rifles that were unfamiliar to Trude.

Emilie parked the jeep out front. The two woman exited the vehicle and made their way through the gate entrance. The soldiers saluted Emilie and she returned the favor, but they eyed Trude warily.

After getting out of earshot, Trude voiced her worries.

"Why do they look at me like that?"

"Because you don't have a name or rank. They'd think you are a spy, but it's not like we don't use espionage ourselves."

Emilie made a turn towards one of the closest buildings. She opened the door and the smell of steel, wood varnish, and gun oil impacted Trude. The lieutenant flicked the light switches and let the door close behind them. Inside, there were rows of shelves and racks of neatly placed firearms.

"You probably know this one," Emilie said, picking a handgun off the shelf.

"It's a Browning Hi-Power," Trude answered.

"Yes. This has replaced the Walther and Luger as the standard sidearm for us. Reason being that, as standard, it holds thirteen rounds instead of eight and it can take these twenty-round magazines without too much of a hindrance."

She put the handgun back on the shelf. The next thing she picked up was a Luger with a wooden stock.

"We still use Lugers like this eight-inch model as a type of personal-defense-weapon. Not too common anymore. We also have M712 Shnellfeuer carbines for the job as well. The Kriegsmarine still use the Lugers along with the six-inch model."

Emilie picked up an MP 40.

"Obviously an MP 40, but now these have been modified to shoot at a faster RPM. Around 600 to 700. We've experimented with 7.63 Mauser for better penetration, but didn't really get the results we wanted. Those are floating around since we have plenty of 7.63 still in stock."

The next weapon was one that Trude has never seen before.

"This is an Uzi submachine gun. Same barrel length of the MP 40 at ten-inches, same stock fire-rate at 600, same standard mag cap, and also takes 9mm Luger. But it's smaller than the MP 40 and it has a collapsible stock. These are handed out to mainly tankers and helicopter pilots."

She put it back on its rack.

"Neat little weapon."

"Um, what's a helicopter?" Trude asked.

"I'll show you when we get back to Ramstein."

This time she picked up an StG-44.

"Some changes have been made to the Sturmgewehr. The gas system and operation has been simplified to make it cheaper and more reliable. The fire selector has been changed as well. It's no longer a push button fire selector. Now it's here, right where the safety is. Up is 'Safe', one position down is 'Semi', last position is 'Full-Auto'. All Sturmgewehrs made after '53 has the rail to mount a ZF-4 scope. Oh yeah, they also have a Bakelite handguard now over the heatshield. Still a good idea to use gloves though."

Emilie put the rifle down and picked up the rifle that Trude has been seeing a lot of lately. It had a wood stock, pistol grip, and handguard.

"Belgian FN FAL. Relatively new battle rifle. Shoots 7.62x51mm cartridges and takes twenty-round magazines. Shoots semi and full-auto. Good rifle but kicks on auto. It also has the ability to shoot rifle grenades."

She put the rifle down.

"I should mention that most of our weapons and ammo come from Belgica."

Emilie walked along the rows of weapons, passing the majority of them. For good reason too. Most of the weapons Trude were already familiar with. Weapons such as Gewehr 43s, Kar 98Ks, MG 34s and 42s, FG 42s, and various other small arms used during the war.

She led Trude out of the building and into another building. When Emilie turned on the lights, Trude was met with a literal room full of explosive ordinance.

"Don't trip," Emilie said with dry sarcasm.

There were Panzerfaust crates and Panzershrecks with boxes of rockets. Grenades, rifle grenades, land mines, and mortars were quite prominent as well. Other than explosives, heavy weaponry also filled the room. There was a Browning M2 as well as a couple early war anti-tank rifles.

"I'm not going over any of this as I assume you know all of this," Emilie said as she continued to walk.

At the back of the room, there was a small collection of small arms. There were pistols, rifles, machine guns, and submachine guns, none of them in a uniform amount.

 _PPSh-41s, PPs-43s, SVT-40s, Mosin-Nagant 91/30s, M38s, and M44s, Tokarev TT-33s…_

"These are Orussian weapons," Trude noticed.

"Thank you for stating the obvious," Emilie said. "We managed to capture them during our skirmishes, but there are some that you won't be familiar with."

Emilie picked up a pistol that resembled a Walther PPK.

"This is the Makarov pistol. Eight-round magazine and is chambered in 9x18mm. It might seems like a weak cartridge, but you know; Orussians love their hot loads."

She put the pistol down and pointed towards a rifle with an under folding bayonet, then towards a belt-fed machine gun.

"Don't know if you know it or not, but that's an SKS and that's an RPD."

"I heard about them," Trude said. "Never seen them."

Emilie pointed to what seemed to be a launcher.

"That is an RPG-2. It fires these 82mm HEAT rounds. It's meant to be anti-armor, but we lost helicopters to these as well. Now, you need be _extremely_ careful if you were ever to use this thing. Whether the rockets are in the tube or not, if the tip of the warhead hits anything without the safety cap, it _will_ explode."

The blonde let out a deep breath.

"One last weapon that you _need_ to know about," Emilie said grimly. She walked to a rack of rifles and picked up a rifle that was different from the rest. It was a well-worn weapon. The metal looked as if someone tossed the gun into a washing machine full of steel wool and the wood furniture had canyons for gouges and the stock had a large crack going along the grain.

"This is an AK-47. It's Orussia's standard assault rifle, a copy of our Sturmgewehr. It shoots 7.62x39mm rounds from a thirty-round magazine at 600 rounds per minute. It's simple, it's reliable, and it's efficient. This thing will shoot in any condition. And _this_ is what our enemy has."

Emilie's voice trailed off as she looked down at the weapon. There was history here. History that Trude did not know.

What type of havoc could one rifle do to an entire country?!

"Just as our enemies have learn to fear the sound of our Buzzsaw, we learned to fear the sound of this. Because there is one of these in the hands of every soldier."

Trude swallowed the lump in her throat.

"How did you come by capturing one of these?" Trude asked.

"This particular gun was brought back by Colonel Marseille when she escaped from captivity in 1952."

Emilie put the weapon back on the rack.

"Any questions?"

Trude stiffly shook her head.

"Then let's head back," Emilie said as she looked at her watch. "The tankers could be out practicing now. We'll give them a visit on the way back."

* * *

The tankers were out practicing maneuvers. Emilie followed the dirt road and stopped at the top of a shallow hill so they can observe the action below. The tanks were painted white with splotches of green. Something that amazed Trude was that these tanks were fast! They were the size of a heavy tank, maybe bigger, but they had the speed and maneuverability of a light tank. The tanks sped around the barren winter landscape, kicking up flurries of snow and smoothly tackled any bumps.

"Those are Britannian Centurion MBTs," Emilie said.

"MBT?"

"Main battle tank."

"What happened with our Tigers?"

"Oh, we still use those. Just not extensively. You see, when we found out that East Karlsland received a new type of tank, we couldn't put time into R&D. We needed a better tank _now,_ so we looked around and Britannia had the Centurion."

"What about that one?" Trude asked, pointing to a tank with a dome turret that was painted in a white and light grey camouflage scheme.

"That's what we have to fight; the Orussian T-54. Suomus managed to capture a few and have lent one to us."

The tanks continued to do their maneuvers but upon closer inspection, the Centurions looked like they were trying to surround the T-54. The Orussian tank continued to evade them. This continued on for a minute or two until the T-54 came out from behind a hill and rammed into the side of one of the Centurions.

…

The commander of the Centurion hauled herself out of the tank.

"Verdammt," she groaned.

Like all the other Karlslandian soldiers Trude had seen, she wore Flecktarn. Her messy black hair was in a ponytail and a huge scar went across her face.

She went around her tank to the side of the T-54 where a gray-haired woman in a light blue Suomus uniform was leaning against the tank with her back to the Karlslandian.

"Why do even have us do these exercises?! We are just fine using our regular tactics!" she demanded.

The Suom woman said nothing. She pulled out a flask and took a swig.

"'Regular tactics'?" the woman queried. "You mean _old_ tactics. Face it, Friederike. The world has changed. The way to fight a war has changed. You'd better get used to just that. Change."

Friederike Porsche stiffened.

"Do not call me that," Friederike said. "Only Michael can call me that."

The way Friederike addressed the Suom would have made any lesser person needing a new pair of pants, but not this woman.

"But, _Friederike-_ "

"Shut up," interrupted Friederike.

"Michael is dead," the Suom finished.

"Shut up!"

The Suom turned around with a provocative grin on her face. She held out her flask.

"Why don't you have a drink… _Friederike_."

"I said shut up, Juutilainen!" Friederike screamed. She swiped her hand making the Suom drop her flask, its transparent contents spilling out into the snow.

Aurora E. Juutilainen clenched her fists.

"I'm gonna give you another scar on your face!" Aurora said.

Unaffected by her age, Aurora threw a punch at Friederike, dazing the Karlslandian. She then grabbed her hair and slammed her head into the side of the T-54.

"You lost one person! I lost more than you ever did!" Aurora shrieked. She slammed Friederike's head every time she finished a sentence. "I lost friends to the Neuroi in Hispania! I lost students in Ostmark! I saw the carnage in Suomus!"

With a final hit, Aurora let go of Friederike. The former witch of Karlsland fell to her knees, her hand on her forehead. Blood dripped from between the fingers and stained the snow. Unexpectedly, Friederike threw a handful of red snow at Aurora causing her to stumble. Friederike got up and kicked the back of one of Aurora's knees making her fall to her knees.

The Karlslandian repeatedly punched the Suom as tears flowed down her cheeks.

"I loved him!" Friederike sobbed. "We were going to get married!"

Aurora caught one of her assailant's fist and gave an uppercut to her jaw.

"I lost loved ones too. This war took my family!"

Friederike retaliated by launching her fist towards Aurora's face. Aurora dodged the shot but, Friederike grabbed her hair as she was taking back her hand. The Suom attempted to push her away. Instead, Aurora grabbed Friederike's lapels and brought her head forward with all her might causing a concussive impact.

The two former witches stumbled backward. Aurora used the T-54 to support herself while Friederike was down on one knee. They kept their belligerent stares trained on each other.

"Stop this! Please stop this!" they heard someone beg.

They looked towards the direction of the voice and found a blonde woman with a high ponytail. It was Charlotte Lueder, a younger former witch.

Friederike looked down at her hand. Aurora followed and found several strands of gray hair. The Suom felt the spot where it felt like she was missing hair, and she was. As the tension died down, Friederike was the first to speak.

"Sorry," she said. Whether she apologized to Aurora or Charlotte, only she knows.

Charlotte helped Friederike up and walked her away. Aurora picked up her flask and tried to have a drink only to find out that it was empty. Sighing, she screwed the cap closed and looked up at the hill where Emilie and Trude are.

 _You were right, Eila. She is here_.

* * *

By the time Emilie and Trude have returned to Ramstein, the sun was making its way towards the horizon.

"Last two vehicles," Emilie said.

She pointed a group that were sitting in front of a hangar.

"Those are UH-1 Huey helicopters. They can vertically take off and land. They are slow, but the fact that they can land almost anywhere makes them nearly invaluable."

"Who makes them?" Trude asked.

"Liberion. We bought them through Britannia though."

The roar of jet engines thundered down the runway. Trude looked to see jets, the same type as what Chris was flying, take off.

"Those are CL-13 Sabres. A Faraway Landian copy of the Liberion F-86 Sabre. Those are armed with six .50 caliber machine guns, each firing twelve-hundred rounds per minute. Wonderful aircraft."

"Do the Orussians have anything comparable?" Trude asked.

"Yes. They have the MiG-15. Very similar to the Sabre. The main difference is that the MiG has two twenty-three millimeter and one thirty-seven millimeter cannons."

Silence settled between them.

"Questions?"

"Not at the moment."

"I guess we can call it a day then. Do you-"

Emilie was interrupted when there was a childish shout.

The women turned and saw a little girl running towards them. Emilie's face lit up and ran towards the girl with her arms outstretched. She scooped her up and did several gentle spins, growling playfully.

"Ah, little Clarissa!" Emilie said and kissed her briefly on the lips.

There was another figure that approached them. It was a man with brown hair who was a half a head taller than Emilie. He also wore the standard BDU. They exchanged a kiss on the cheek when they reached each other.

"It's good to see you, John," Emilie said.

"You too," he said.

They had a group hug as Trude watched with a warm heart.

* * *

Only the crunching of snow could be heard in the desolate military cemetery. The war with the Neuroi made the rows of tombstones go on forever. The new war only made it much more heartbreaking. Chris walked down the aisle. A path she has walked many times before. She did not have her uniform on. She wore a dark gray overcoat, similar to the one Trude wore the day she disappeared. She continued to walk until she stopped and dropped to her knees in front of one particular grave with a sigh.

"Hi, Minna."

Chris opened and closed her hands in the snow.

"Trude's here. She's still alive. But I guess you would know if you didn't see her in Heaven."

Chris choked as she tried to find words.

"I don't know what to do. I wish you were here to guide me."

She let out a big sigh.

"I miss you," Chris sobbed. "Things have gotten worse ever since Hanna's gone. I don't have anyone to confide in anymore. And Trude doesn't count. She doesn't know how the world works now."

Chris's body shuddered.

"I just came here to give you the news. Please…Please send me a sign or message if you have any ideas. Tell Erica as well if you see her."

Chris stood up, kissed her hand and placed it on the tombstone.

"Auf wiedersehen."

And with the farewell, Chris solemnly made her way back home.

However, unknown to her, there was a pair of green eyes that were trained on the Barkhorn sister from a nearby tree. The black cat with half a left ear intently watched every step Chris took until she vanished from sight.

* * *

 **A/N: If it sounds like Emilie contradicts what Chris said in the previous chapter, it's because she probably does contradict Chris. Emilie told the history from her point-of-view and she has her biases.**

 **Now, this chapter is obviously heavy on the weapons. Interestingly enough, some of the weapons and/or the modifications do not exist. In order of appearance, the M712 Schnellfeuer carbines never existed. The semi-auto only C96 carbine did, although in limited numbers. Probably outside of custom modifications, my version of the MP 40 never happened. Neither did the version of the StG 44, although some were adapted to take scopes.**

 **Now onto what I assume that would be the source of most of the backlash; the Uzi. Why does Karlsland have the Uzi? Well, its creator, Uziel Gal, was a German born Jew and since the Nazi party never came to absolute power in the SW universe, nor did the Jewish Holocaust ever happened, there would have been no reason for him to leave Germany (Karlsland), aside from the Neuroi.**

 **For the rocket of the RPG-2, I took most of the inspiration from its RPG-7 counterpart. I have no idea what the RPG-2's rockets are like.  
**

 **If this chapter didn't make it obvious, I do take an interest in firearms, especially their history. Personally owning them...not so much. I am not against the US's 2nd Amendment though.**

 **Side note: if you are interested in firearms statistics, history, and/or functionality, I suggest checking out Forgotten Weapons on YouTube. I found it interesting, especially the videos on the RPG-7 and French Chauchat (which is not a piece of crap by the way).**

 **The Ramstein AFB in this story is basically the same as the one in our world. But there was no Liberion occupation so it is controlled by Karlslandians.**

 **In canon, Friederike's lover is Michael Schmitt and he was the only reason she kept fighting despite her declining magic ability.**

 **Aurora is one of my favorite characters in Strike Witches (can't you tell?). For those who don't know, Aurora's history takes her to the Neuroi war in Hispania. She was nicknamed the "Terror of Morocco" because of her actions. Whether she had or lost friends there is mostly speculation. Her students in Ostmark is also speculation, but it places her in Ostmark at the start of the Second Neuroi War in 1939. It is (will be) shown in my story _Old Wounds,_ which is about Elizabeth Beurling.**

 **Now onto review responses.**

 **StoryCritical03: Glad you enjoyed the last chapter! I am actually not unfamiliar with writing long stories. What I meant about continuing from one-shot was that I didn't really anticipate on continuing the story so I didn't put much effort into making one. An example is my fanfic, _A New Life_. I didn't expect it to gather so much interest, and with the flaws and lack of build up, I decided to rewrite and continue it as its own story, _Iron Maidens_. I was wondering how well the flow from Ch1 to Ch2 was. I expect this story will be long, but not on the scale of WR &141\. Thanks for the A/N review response suggestion.**

 **New Universe Returns: I came across that story a while back and found it to be quite interesting. However, I don't have the time to be able to take on another story at the moment. I write when I get the chance and college isn't making it easy. Sorry if you are disappointed.**

 **StrikerStanding692: Thanks for pointing that error out! It's been fixed!**

 **Something I found interesting is that the position of the bow on a dirndl indicates the wearer's status: On the left means they're single and are ready to mingle, right for married, in front basically means they are under-aged an are virgins, and on the back means they're a widow or a waitress. In the first episode of Strike Witches: Operation Victory Arrow, Trude and Heidemarie wore the bow on the left! Something we need to know, witches?  
**

 **Anyway, that's it for background information. Of course there will be more, but they'll be scattered around as more characters show up and talk about their pasts. I plan on continuing on with the plot in the next chapter. So please leave a review or a comment, take care folks, and I will catch you guys in the next chapter.**


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: This chapter is subject to scrapping and a major rewrite. More details in the notice.  
**

* * *

-4-

A small click could be heard. An explosion released a mushroom cloud of fire and gas. Some of the hot gases were captured and rerouted back into the machine. The gases pushed on a piston which drove the machine. Metal scraped and screeched as the piston pushed on a block, making an opening. The unwanted waste was thrown out, releasing a small haze of fumes and burning embers. A strong spring pushed the block back forward and closed with a clank, feeding more food into this hungry machine. Another explosion occurred as the process repeated. A click resonated, letting the operator know to fetch more food.

Chris pushed the button and let the empty magazine drop. She reached into her pouch and inserted a fresh magazine back into her StG 44. Pulling the charging handle back, she began to advance and shoot again. The weapon chattered a short burst every time Chris pulled the trigger and loud clangs could be heard as she put her rounds into metal silhouette targets. The targets creaked as they fell backward under the weight of fire. Another springy click could be heard. Chris briefly looked at her weapon before letting hang by its sling. As the rifle dropped, she drew her Hi-Power from its holster. Pulling the trigger quickly, she rapid fired the pistol and with a final loud gunshot, the slide locked open and the target fell onto its back.

Chris took deep breaths as she slowed her heart beat. She released the slide of her pistol and holstered it. Her eyes flicked back and forth and her ear twitched nervously. Keeping her guard up, she walked back towards the shooting benches, picking up her spent magazines along the way.

…

She walked down the hall towards her office with her rifle slung over her shoulder and hearing protection around her neck. Of course, both weapons were unloaded and the safeties were on. As she turned a corner, she could see John sitting in the chair in front of the office. When he saw her, he quickly stood up and saluted as she approached.

"You know you don't have to do that for me," Chris said as she returned the salute. "We've known each other for what, seven years?"

"Yes, ma'am…"

Chris gave him a good-natured stern look.

"…Er, Chris, sorry. Chris."

"Better," Chris smiled. "Where's Clarissa?"

"She's still asleep. Emilie is watching her," John answered.

"I don't think she is."

"What makes you say that?"

"You can come out now! I know you're there!" Chris said, turning towards the corner she had turned earlier.

A few seconds passed before a blonde head popped out from around the corner. It was none other than Emilie. She did not have her cap and her hair was now in a ponytail.

"How long did you know I was there?" she asked as she walked towards them.

"Since the firing range."

"Eh?! How?!"

"Well, it's quite simple really. Those targets were quite heavy, so there would need to be quite a bit of force to knock one of those down. However, when I was using my pistol, I noticed my shots were hitting a little low for it to fall over and taken that it fell over slowly, it definitely wasn't a shot from a rifle."

Emilie just looked at Chris.

"And the last shot was a little loud for a nine-Luger," Chris finished.

"Oh…"

"Nice shot though," Chris complimented as she invited the two pilots into her office. "How far were you? Eighty, ninety meters?"

"One-ten."

"110? It's a no wonder you're the best human marksman we know," John said.

"I did learn from one of the best," Emilie replied as she looked into his eyes.

Chris leaned the rifle against her desk.

"Alright, lovebirds," Chris said. "I didn't invite you for free time. We got a mission to do."

The two other pilots began to pay attention.

"We've gotten intel on a possible high-value target from our informant in Eastern Karlsland. It's a scientist who was in the east when the Orussians invaded. Apparently he was part of the V-2 project. Now, I know the Orussians have ballistic missiles, but we can't allow them to advance any further."

"Before you go on, who's doing what?" Emilie asked.

Chris tilted her head.

"This sounds like a job for infantry. If they're involved, I'd like to be on the ground with them instead of John," Emilie explained. "Clarissa loves her father and it will ensure that she has a father that will return to her."

"She loves her mother too," John countered.

Chris held her chin as she thought about it.

"Well, I'm flying top cover and I'll need my wingman," Chris decided. "Emilie you're on the ground, and John, you're flying with me. That's non-negotiable."

"Thank you," Emilie whispered.

"Now, here's the plan."

…

"Vulture will fly us to the drop zone with their Hueys," Emilie explained to the soldiers as she pointed at the map. "We will make our way to the compound on foot. The Hueys will provide CAS and Commander Barkhorn will lead a flight to fly top cover and anti-armor if needed. Once we're there, we will make our way to the target building and find the HVT. This is a kill or capture mission. Capture is preferred. Questions?"

The men and women said nothing.

"Load up. We leave in ten."

The troops got up and went to gear up. Emilie walked to Trude who was standing in at the back of where the group was.

"Put these on," Emilie said as she put a patch and a pin in Trude's hand.

The pin was a rank pin, one of corporal. The other was a nametag and it said "Lowell".

"It's for disguising your real ID," Emilie said. "Now, grab a rifle, ammo, and gear and go to Vulture 1. That's the Huey just outside the hangar."

"Um, Lieutenant?" Trude said.

"Hm?"

"Why do I have to do this?"

Emilie shrugged. "Chris's orders."

She grabbed her weapon, which was an StG 44 with a ZF-4 scope, and ammunition before slinging the rifle over her shoulder and making her way to the helicopter. On the way, she walked next to Chris who was in full flight gear.

"Remind me why I have to babysit your sister?" said Emilie.

"Baptism by fire," Chris stated simply. "Also to show her what we deal with. Call it cruel, but she needs to learn how to survive in this world."

Emilie broke off and was immediately replaced by Aurora.

"Commander, call off this mission right now," Aurora said.

Chris wrinkled her nose as she was hit by the Suom's alcohol laden breath.

"And why should I do that?" Chris asked.

"Nothing will come out of it."

"Right," Chris responded as she waved over some base personnel. "Now, you can leave on your own, or be forcefully removed."

Aurora looked at the soldiers that flanked her on both sides.

"I'll go," Aurora sighed. "But know this: you are wasting your time, resources, and above all, lives."

Chris made no change to her external appearance and headed to her Sabre which had six rockets under each wing. She climbed into the cockpit, put her helmet on, and started her preflight checks and engine start up procedure. Once everything checked out, she taxied onto the runway with three more Sabres right behind her.

Emilie put her cap on and entered the helicopter after her squad, all of who were carrying FN FALs. The door gunners their MG 42s readied just as Trude entered the helicopter. The weapon she had picked up was a standard StG 44.

"Welcome aboard Vulture Airlines," the pilot said. "I'm Otto 'Rabbit' Haas, I'll be your pilot this morning. The forecast today predicts sunny skies, five knot crosswinds, and a hundred percent chance of gunfire. So sit back, relax, and enjoy the flight."

* * *

The ride to their drop point was uneventful. There were times when a strong wind would shake the helicopters, but that was about it. The two Hueys landed in the snowy clearing a couple miles away from the compound. Once all twenty-eight soldiers disembarked, they took off, waiting for the next phase of the mission. Meanwhile, the troops walked through the barren forest, weapons ready. Along the way, Emilie noticed that Trude was lagging behind. She told her second-in-command to take the lead for now and dropped back.

"What's up?" she asked.

"A thought has crossed my mind," Trude said. "Aren't you a pilot?"

"Yes."

"Then what are you doing on the ground instead of up in the air?"

"Adaptability. As well as filling in slots because there are not a whole lot of people enlisted in any one branch. Sure, for pilots, it can hit our ability to get air kills. Like how I'm stuck at seven at the moment. But we take up our jobs as needed. Chris had to too back in the day when Colonel Marseille couldn't convince a commanding officer to let Chris fly instead."

Trude adjusted her grip on her rifle uncomfortably.

"Something wrong?"

"No," Trude said. "I'll be fine."

"Good. Now let's catch up to everyone else."

...

The Karlslandian soldiers hid in the trees. Their target was down the hill in a small recess in the land. Emilie looked through a pair of binoculars to survey the scene below. There were three buildings; two single-floor and one two-floor. As far as she could see, there were two soldiers on each roof. She saw movement through the windows.

"How does it look?" one of her subordinates asked.

"Manageable," she replied.

Emilie shouldered her rifle and took aim. There was a soft click as the safety was disengaged and everything fell silent. Her breaths gradually slowed as she put one of the soldiers in her crosshairs. Finally, she pulled the trigger. Her target's head disappeared in a cloud of red mist and fell off the roof.

One enemy down.

She engage the second guard who was still oblivious. Another clean kill.

 _They must have heard the shot by now_.

Sure enough, when she locked onto the targets of the second single-floor building, they were looking around. She took out one of them and the second guard panicked and started to run. She did not get far as she received a 7.92mm gift from Emilie into her back.

Emilie looked towards the two-story, but the guards have concealed themselves behind some air conditioning units.

"Vultures 1 and 2, you are clear to engage," Emilie said before taking off down the hill.

"Vulture 1, moving in."

"Vulture 2, roger that."

The helicopters made it to their target in no time. Once they arrived, their gunners let loose at any enemy targets they could see.

Emilie pressed herself against the wall of one of the buildings and advanced slowly. She stopped when she reached the corner. Changing her handle on the rifle, holding it like a left-handed user, she slowly peered around the corner. There were three enemies behind some rubble and they shot as soon as they saw her. She quickly ducked back around the corner when the bullets impacted the brick wall. Blinking the dust from her eyes, she radioed for support.

"Vulture 1, can you do something about that?"

"Roger. Gunners, targets in the courtyard."

The MG 42s ripped through the air as their bullets made ground meat.

"You're clear to the target building."

"Roger that," Emilie said. "Let's go!"

She ran across the courtyard until she reached the two-story building. Once inside, she gave orders to the other squad leader.

"You clear the right, we'll clear the left."

"Yes, ma'am."

Emilie hugged the wall again and advanced step by step. An enemy came out of a room and she quickly gave him two bullets in the chest. She could hear the sounds of gunfire behind her as her squad cleaned up any more surprises. At the end of her side of the building was a staircase. Exercising caution and care, she carefully progressed up to the second floor. She was met with another long hallway and she and her squad cleared each room before reaching the door at the end of the hall. The rooms they had cleared were filled with broken glass, blood and bodies. The Hueys have cleaned up nicely.

The one guy with the shotgun blew the hinges off the door and kicked it in. The soldiers filed into the room and found nothing. Nothing but dead soldiers and shattered glass.

"Hey, Chris, we made it to the target area, but he's not here," Emilie reported.

"What?! But she's usually reliable with intel."

"Yes, I know, but I'm telling you there's nothing here."

"Alright," Chris sighed. "Grab anything that looks useful and RTB immediately."

"You got it," Emilie responded. "Alright, search and grab anything that could be used or is useful. Be careful."

Trude walked into the room as Emilie was grabbing a Makarov and its spare magazines from a corpse.

"Nice of you to join us," Emilie said.

Trude stared blankly at her surroundings.

"Hello?" Emilie snapped her fingers in Trude's face.

"Ah! - what?!"

"You alright?"

"Y-Yes."

"Good. Now help grab anything useful."

Trude looked around and found a file on a table. 'CLASSIFIED' was stamped on the front in big red letters.

"Like this?" Trude asked as she picked it up.

"Ye-" Emilie began to answer when she heard two familiar metallic clinks. "Grenade!"

She grabbed Trude by the arm and swung her out of the door. Emilie dashed out as well, but the force of the two grenades pushed her over and on top of Trude. Emilie looked back towards the door where a cloud of dust began to settle.

"Are you okay?" she asked Trude.

"Yeah."

Emilie pulled the witch to her feet.

"Some advice for the future. You should check for bobby traps before picking something up," Emilie said. "What did you pick up?"

"It's just a file. It says 'classified' so I thought it'd be worth something."

There was crying from down the hallway.

"No! Please! Please don't kill me!" a young voice said.

Emilie went to investigate the source of the voice. It came from one of the rooms. Inside the room, a couple of her soldiers stood in a crude semicircle in front of a corner. In the corner was someone wearing an Eastern Karlsland uniform. It was a woman with golden hair and blue eyes. She was young and couldn't be far out of her teenage years. She was backed up against the corner, trembling in fear with a bullet wound in her leg.

Emilie knelt in front of her and she seemed to go into a panic attack.

"Don't kill me! Don't hurt me!"

"I'm not going to hurt you," Emilie said in a gentle voice. She slowly put down her rifle. "See?"

The woman seemed to calm down a little, but she was still breathing heavily.

"Now what's your name?"

No answer as she kept her unblinking stare at Emilie. Emilie slowly moved her hand forward which made the woman shrink into the wall even more.

"I'm not going to hurt you. I just want to see your tags," Emilie reassured.

Emilie found the metal chain on the woman's neck and pulled it to reveal the dogtags. The dogtags came out and a diamond ring was on the chain as well. Upon closer inspection, what was imprinted on the tags did not amuse Emilie at all. With a sharp yank, she broke the tags off the woman's neck.

"Tend to her wound and get her to Vulture 2. We're taking her with us," Emilie ordered.

* * *

Inside the interrogation room, Chris pulled the bag off of their prisoner-of-war. The woman flinched when the darkness of the bag lifted and was exposed to the relatively brighter light in the room. Chris let the file Trude brought back land on the table before taking a seat.

"What is your name?" Chris asked.

The woman still sat rigid, her eyes looking at all points in the room. Chris slammed the table with her palm, causing the woman to jump.

"Do I have your attention now?"

The woman meekly nodded.

"Now, what is your name?" Chris repeated.

"F-F-F-Fiona H-H-Hahns," she said shakily.

"Okay, Fiona. There's something I want to know," Chris said. "Today we raided your compound to find a specific individual. But it appeared that he was not there. Now where is he?"

"I don't know," Fiona said.

"We can do this the easy way or the hard way."

"I swear I don't know! All I do know is that we were told to stay there and guard the place. Apparently we were expecting you guys to attack at some point because we managed to catch a spy."

"And who was this spy?" Chris's interest peaked.

"I don't know. Some girl with a Britannian accent."

"And this?" Chris added, pointing to the file.

"That was just some outdated R&D project. Something about explosive armour. Someone saw it as good bait for a grenade trap."

"What good is armour if it explodes?" Chris asked.

"No idea."

Chris waited for a few moments, tapping her finger on the table.

"Thank you for that information," Chris said. "You just saved us a lot of trouble and yourself a lot of pain."

She got up and exited the room.

"What a weakling. I used the most clichéd threat and she spills all the beans."

"Pathetic," Emilie added. "Anyway, there's someone in your office waiting for you."

Chris nodded and began to walk to her office. She stopped when she realized that she could only hear her own footsteps.

"You coming?" Chris asked, looking back at Emilie.

Emilie was in some sort of trance as she looked at the door to the interrogation room.

"What? Yeah, I'm coming," she said.

Emilie caught up to Chris and followed her to her office.

"Your sister did not fire a single shot," Emilie said.

"She swore to protect humanity when she was sworn in as a witch. Even though times have changed, she won't make a move to break that oath," Chris responded.

"What if she was held at gunpoint?"

"I don't know what she would do. Where was she during the raid?"

"She lagged behind the group. Far enough to not do anything, but close enough to look like she did something."

Chris just nodded as she opened her office door.

Sitting on a couch inside the room was Aurora. When Chris opened the door, she got to her feet.

"It was a bust, wasn't it?" Aurora asked.

Chris stood still for a couple of moments then walked to her desk.

"It was!" Aurora said. "What did I tell you?"

"Wait, Chris. You knew that we would come up empty?!" Emilie asked. "Something could have gone very wrong and for nothing!"

Chris dropped the captured file onto her desk with a sigh.

"I told you it would be a waste," Aurora said. "And who died? Your wingman? Your sister? If your sister died, then we are all fucked."

"No one died on our side, alright?!" Chris snapped.

"If you knew we would come up empty, why didn't you call off the mission?" Emilie asked.

"She was drunk," answered Chris.

"I didn't drink any alcohol since yesterday when I saw your right-hand-woman and your sister on the hill," Aurora said to Chris. "Now that I know my sister's predictions can be correct, I can carry through with her request."

"Wait, what do you mean we're screwed if Trude died?" Chris asked.

"If 'Trudy' died, then we can't send her back. If we can't send her back, we can't stop this from happening."

"Send her back where?"

"Back when she disappeared; November 30, 1945."

"You're talking about time travel?" Emilie asked in disbelief.

"Yes," confirmed Aurora.

"Are you sure you aren't still drunk?"

"Yes, I'm sure!"

"What do we gain by sending her back?" Chris asked. "Right now, we are the only ones in the world with a witch with viable magical power to fight this war."

" _Or_ we could send her back and _not_ fight this war," Aurora countered.

"How do end up not fighting this war if we send her back?" Chris asked.

"You are not seriously going to listen to her, are you, Chris?!" a shocked Emilie expressed.

"We live in a world full of witches and aliens and yet time traveling is a no-no." Aurora shook her head with a low chuckle.

"Still, how will our present change by sending her back?" Chris pushed.

"It's something like..." Aurora began. "Time is not a, well, timeline. It isn't a line. It's more like a big ball of wibbley-wobbley, timey-wimey...stuff."

"You don't know," Chris assumed.

"No, I don't. My sister can explain it better than I can."

"So let's assume what you say is true. How do we send Trude back?" Chris asked.

"I don't know. All my sister said was to deliver a message," Aurora said. "'Barkhorn will be able to return when she gathers the necessary keys' is what she said."

"That's not cryptic at all," Emilie scoffed.

"That's just how my sister works when it comes to her foresight."

"So _you_ don't know how to send her back?" Chris asked.

"Nope," answered the Suom.

Silence settled among them.

"I'll keep this in mind. You are both dismissed," Chris said.

Emilie immediately left, but Aurora gave Chris a lax salute before leaving.

"Aurora..."

The Suom stopped at the open door.

"Thank you."

"I'm not doing this for you," she said.

* * *

Emilie made a straight shot back to the interrogation room. When she got there, she took out her revolver and opened the cylinder.

"Lieutenant, what are you doing?" the guard asked.

"Disarming myself," Emilie responded as she ejected the .357 magnum rounds.

"I can see that, but why?"

"If I don't I might kill her."

She handed the revolver to the guard and entered the room.

Once she entered, Fiona stiffened and tried to break out of her restraints. The prisoner was babbling incoherently as Emilie walked towards the table and sat down. The pilot waited, allowing Fiona to tire herself out. When the rattling stopped, Emilie held up the dogtags that she yanked from Fiona's neck.

"Where did you get these?" Emilie asked.

The East Karlslandian did not respond and was still visibly shaking.

"Where did you get these?" Emilie repeated, emphasizing every syllable.

Still no response.

"You will give me an answer," Emilie threatened, making a fist with her free hand.

"Th-Those are mine," Fiona finally answered.

"No, they are not," Emilie denied. "You told the other woman that came in here that your name is Fiona Haas. If that is your name, these can't be your tags because your name does not have any Es, Cs, Rs, or Ms. And I know the person whose name is on these tags and you are not them. You must either be very brave or very stupid to lie to me."

"You're right. They aren't mine," she confessed shakily.

"And what about this ring?" Emilie asked.

Fiona's eyes flicked fearfully from the diamond ring to Emilie's face.

"It's-"

"Don't lie to me!" Emilie flipped the table to the side and loomed over Fiona.

The prisoner tried to push herself backwards, but the fact that she had wet herself did not help. The racket caught the attention of the guard who opened the door.

"Lieutenant!"

Emilie paid no attention to him.

"Look at the inside engraving! Look!" Emilie forced Fiona's head to face the ring. "See what it says inside? 'Teufels Diener'! Devil's Servant! Are you telling me _you_ wanted this written in your engagement ring?"

"No!"

"Then where did you get these?"

"I got it from you!" Fiona cried. "Blonde hair! Horns! Glowing! Blue! You...You made things explode! You killed people without touching them! Wind! Fire! Witchcraft! You can't be touched! You're a ghost! A demon!"

Having enough of this rabble, Emilie left the room and let Fiona continue her hysteria.

"What the hell was that about?" the guard asked Emilie.

"I think she needs to be put into a psych ward," she responded.

Then she left without saying another word.

...

Darkness covered everything. Carefully and quietly, Emilie slipped out of her uniform. First her boots and socks, then her tunic and pants. She took off her undershirt and replaced it with a regular T-shirt that was a size larger than her. She pulled on her hair tie, allowing her blonde hair to fall seductively. Setting the tie by the dogtags, she climbed into the bed where John was already sleeping.

"You know, you are getting stealthier every time you come to bed late," John remarked.

Emilie said nothing as she slipped beneath the covers with her back towards John.

"One of those days?"

"Mm-hm," Emilie hummed in confirmation.

"You can always talk to me about it if you want."

"I know," she whispered.

"Well, goodnight, Evilie."

"Goodnight."

Silence ruled the room with only the soft breaths of its occupants. Emilie closed her eyes only to have them open. She shut her eyes again and tried to keep them shut, but everything that she saw and heard today swirled around in her brain, constantly kicking her out of the dream world. She reached for the tags on the nightstand. Holding them in front of her face, she read the contents over and over again for what seemed like hours or maybe minutes. Unexpectedly, black curtains fell upon her eyes as she was sucked into unconsciousness. Her arm fell to the side of the bed still holding the dogtags.

Moonlight seeped through a crack in the curtains and it was blocked when a shadow moved in front of it. A pair of green eyes stared at Emilie. The black cat put a paw against the glass with its claws sheathed as to not wake the couple. It watched Emilie with sorrowful eyes for a few more moments before diving off the window sill.

* * *

 **A/N: So Emilie is hot-headed, Trude might have a way home, you can bet I have things planned.  
**

 **I visited a museum ship recently.**

 **For those that follow Kantai Collection, here's a clue of what the next chapter will contain. As of today, January 19, 2016, what ship girl was recently added to the game?**

 **If I say anymore, it would be heading down into spoiler territory. Many questions will be answered in time. So ladies and gents,** **please leave a review or a comment, take care, and I'll catch you in the next chapter.**


	5. Notice

**Hiatus Notice**

After going over the comments and reviews of Chapter 4, the general consensus seems to be negative. I suppose it was my overconfidence that led to the disappointing chapter, but I think it's about time that I had a major failure in fanfiction.

Now, I'm not quitting this story by any means, but after some advice, I decided to take a break from this story for the time being.

When I do come back to this story, Chapter 4 has a high chance that it will be scrapped and rewritten. Chapters 2 and 3 might be changed as well, but Chapter 1 will stay as it is.

I do not know when I would be coming back to this story, but when I do, hopefully I can get it on the right track.

So I'm sorry that Chapter 4 was a letdown and I greatly appreciate your comments and reviews as they will help me when I reboot this story.

Until then guys and gals, take care.


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